


In the land of Gods and Monsters

by Shaish



Series: Ghosts [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for sex and blood but that's probably not surprisingly at this point fjdslk.<br/>Whoops Lana title and inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkgMbiVi_3E</p><p>Also, Gina's got a really busy schedule right now so it might take me a little to update the other stories. I'm writing but Gina's super busy so she can't edit as quickly as before. Thank you~</p>
    </blockquote>





	In the land of Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for sex and blood but that's probably not surprisingly at this point fjdslk.  
> Whoops Lana title and inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkgMbiVi_3E
> 
> Also, Gina's got a really busy schedule right now so it might take me a little to update the other stories. I'm writing but Gina's super busy so she can't edit as quickly as before. Thank you~

In the land of Gods and Monsters

I was an angel

 

  
_Five Years Later_

 

His steps are sure down the dark, grey cement hall, the overhead lights every two feet above lighting the way and creating shadows in the in between, in the folds of his uniform and the spaces under his eyes. “Has he said anything,” he demands. The aid at his side shifts his clipboard, steps a little hurried to keep up with his pace.

“No, sir.”

They finally reach the end of the hall, double doors guarded by two heavily armed officers in black kevlar. They stare ahead as he scans his eye, thumb print, and badge, the doors sliding open to allow them through.

“And he’s been in custody for twelve hours?”

“Yes, sir.”

They come to the end of the hall and take a left, then a right, coming to a stop at a large, one way, floor to ceiling viewing window, looking into the holding cell on the right. They both turn to face the prisoner.

There’s another officer in there with him, sitting opposite the table in the center of the room and to their left. The colonel nods his head once and his aid hits the button on the wall, voices spilling out of the room and into the hall through the speakers in the corners above them.

“- _tell us the location of Captain Steven Rogers_ ,” the officer orders, calm but firm.

The prisoner stares back.

They stare at each other for a few minutes before the officer suddenly gets up and punches the prisoner hard across the jaw. The prisoner’s head snaps with it, long brown bangs flying across and covering half of his face, some of the strands of his long ponytail flinging up to land on his black shirt covered shoulder. There’s the sound of someone spitting and then the prisoner lifts his head back up, the heavier cuff around his metallic left wrist _clink_ ing quietly against the metal chair he’s bound to. He turns looks at the officer for a moment, then turns his head to look at the viewing window, grinning a blood mouthed grin at the glass.

His aid stands up straighter at his right and he folds his arms behind his back, one fist gripping the other wrist. He keeps his breathing even.

The prisoner shouldn’t be able to see them.

\--

He holds in a sigh, staring just past the shoulder of the guy in front of him.

Steve’s going to be pissed.

He glances up at the ceiling, leaning back a little in the military’s standard, metal interrogation chair, listening to the gentle _clink_ of his sturdy bindings. He can’t get out of them. They really knew what they were doing with those, at least.

He holds in another sigh.

Steve’s going to _kill him_.

He registers a lilt to the man’s voice across the metal table from him but doesn’t pay it much attention. He probably just asked another dumbass question.

He hears the chair across from him skid like nails on a chalkboard again before-

He lets his head whip around again with the hit to lessen the damage, body relaxed, hair flying across his face. He decided to stop cutting it a few years ago. He kind of likes it. Not to mention it gives Shadow something to play with and Steve something to hold onto.

Bucky spits out another mouthful of blood, staring at it for a moment. It’s a bright thing against the dull of gray cement, like the opposite of the spectrum to Steve’s eyes against a gray sky. He turns his head back around and looks towards the glass to his left again, letting his head lull slightly towards his left shoulder like he’s bored.

Truth be told, he _is_ bored, and a little anxious. Not because of them, but because Steve’s going to _kick his **ass**_ -

“...-you and Captain Rogers are close-”

He slowly drags his eyes back up towards the ceiling, letting his head fall back. If he arches his back far enough, he thinks he might be able to get the ends of his hair to touch his hands-

“...-know he’ll come for you-”

His lips curve up a little, feeling the end of the strands tickle just above the thumb of his right hand. _Victory_.

“...-serum-”

He holds in another sigh.

They haven’t done much with him. They let him stew for the first ten hours before the talking and punching started, and honestly? He’s sure it’s just the start of their little ‘interrogation’, but he’s been through worse and they should know better. Besides, Steve’s going to come for him soon, and they’ll have wasted all that precious time trying to be all silent and threatening.

He holds in a snort, holds in _all_ of his reactions, just piss to them off. He _excels_ at it.

If they wanted to get him anywhere near talking, they should’ve just gone straight to hacking off body parts. He’s particularly attached to a few, and he knows Steve would be upset if he lost anymore than the one he already has.

Something makes him shift just the slightest bit in his chair and he holds in another smile. It’s just his gut, but his gut’s never wrong.

Steve’s here.

“...-still wanted for the murders of the thousands of Hydra agents killed in the battle at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Triskelion building five years ago, but if he turns himself in-”

“I wonder what I should get our little Shadow for dinner,” he cuts the man off, staring up at the ceiling.

Yeah, they’ve started talking again, slowly over the past year or so. It’s been a necessity. But mostly Bucky just likes to fuck with people. Steve usually ends up just rolling his eyes.

That’s a more recent development, too. It’s nice to see it again.

“...Excuse me?” the officer asks, voice sounding a little perplexed.

Bucky holds in a grin and heaves a sigh like he’s so put upon instead. In a lot of ways, he really, _really_ is.

“ _Don’t_ make me _repeat_ myself,” Bucky says a little despairingly, sprawling his legs out underneath the table.

“...Is this ‘Shadow’ a codeword?” the officer asks.

Bucky does bark out a laugh at that, something deep and real.

 _Kids_ these days.

He hears a door slide open and the officer in the chair opposite him shoot to his feet, can hear the man’s spine popping as he stands up straight and at attention.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the ceiling, tapping a finger against the cool leg of the chair quietly.

“Sergeant James Barnes,” an older sounding man says. Bucky rolls his eyes again. “You do realize you’re under the order of the United States Government to give us the whereabouts of Captain Steve Rogers.”

Bucky laughs again, quieter this time, darker. “And _spoil all the fun?_ ”

There’s a tense minute of silence before he hears, “Sound the alarms. I want all troops on red alert.” Well, at least this man’s not as stupid as his underlings seem to be.

“Yes, sir,” a younger voice responds, quickly followed by the sound something being pulled out and fingers tapping on something hard.

Bucky waits, relaxed and staring up at the ceiling.

“Sir-”

His lips curl up. _That’s_ never good. He’d know.

“I can’t get a hold of anyone.”

“ _What?_ ” the older voice demands, “Try central headquarters.”

“I did, sir. Nothing.”

“Officer,” the older voice says.

“Sir,” the middle voice replies, short and obedient, like a damn _dog_.

“Try your own device.”

The sound of something being pulled out, fingers tapping a hard surface, then-

“Nothing, sir.”

Another, tense silence.

Footsteps coming closer.

“ _What have you done_ ,” the officer who’s been in his temporary cage demands, coming into Bucky’s field of vision.

Bucky frowns innocently up at him. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to meet _Steve?_ ”

The man’s eyes widen and then the glass of the viewing room shatters in a cascade of shards, thousands of pieces hitting the floor in light _tinkling_ sounds. It sounds a bit like glass wind chimes and waterfalls all at once to his enhanced hearing. He hears small, light footsteps dart across the mess of it soon after before something warm and soft and prehensile wounds about his left ankle.

“Heeey, Shadow,” he says with a smile, sitting up to lean his head down to find their little black companion rubbing its side up against his leg, heavy duty cuffs _clink_ ing again against the metal of the chair. The black cat blinks up at him before letting out a quiet _mewl_ ing sound and hopping up into his lap. He leans down as far as he can - cuffs straining and arms uncomfortable from the position - to brush his chin against the top of its soft, black head, nuzzling into its own nuzzling of him.

“A...cat broke the glass?” the youngest voice asks.

“ _ **What’s** the meaning of this_ ,” the older voice demands.

“ _Sir!_ ” the middle shouts out just before there’s the sound of boots crunching glass quickly followed by the sound of a gun being drawn.

Bucky looks up and to his left, smile fading and expression sobering. “I’m real sorry, Stevie,” he says, keeping his voice quiet as their eyes lock, “I didn’t mean to get caught or nothin’.”

Steve comes to a stop a foot away from the chair he’s in, long black coat settling back down around his ankles as the motion stops. Bucky slowly sits back up as Steve moves, tilting his face up to keep their eyes locked. Steve doesn’t say anything for a long minute, tense for the three other men in the room and apologetic for Bucky. Steve’s eyes are so blue, and full of emotions only Bucky’s fully capable of reading now days. Steve starts to lean down after a moment, going for the cuffs keeping Bucky’s hands tied. The sound of a gun clicking makes him pause. Bucky glances over.

The officer’s got his gun trained on Steve, whole body overly tense.

“We’re under orders to take you in,” the officer states, “By order of the United States Government, Captain Steve Rogers, you are to come with us immediately.”

Bucky would roll his eyes if Steve were in a better mood, as it is-

Steve moves faster than whip-quick, throwing two knives over Bucky’s shoulder faster than a flash, one knocking the gun off center while the other goes to the officer’s neck. The gun goes off and the bullet ends up embedding itself out in the hall somewhere while the officer drops it and both of his hands dart up to his throat, choking and gurgling on his own blood while he falls to his knees then _thuds_ to the ground, the knife driving up and even further in.

The older man stares a little wide eyed down at his subordinate while the youngest man's eyes have gone wide as saucers, clutching his clipboard like it might save him.

Steve bends the rest of the way down and takes Bucky’s cuffs off at his own pace, as if daring them to stop him. They hit the ground behind Bucky with a heavy _thunkthunk_ and he shakes his hands and wrists out while rolling his shoulders, their Shadow jumping off of his lap as he stands up. Bucky holds out his left hand after a moment in offering, looking over at Steve, and Steve looks back, slowly taking it and twining their fingers together, expression unreadable in a way that no one else will be able to solve. It’s not meant for them.

Steve turns for the now gone viewing window while their Shadow darts out into the hall ahead of them, both of them pausing after a few feet when they both hear, “But- But you’re Captain America! And Sergeant Barnes of the Howling Commandos! If we just had a blood sample from you, we might be able to recreate the serum and help save soldier’s lives!”

Steve turns a little towards them, looking at the young man. “Who is Captain America?” he asks calmly, an underlying sharpness in his tone like knives.

The younger man flinches, eyes wide. “You mean- you don’t-”

Bucky finally lets out a loud, put upon sigh, reaching up with his right hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying to work out a kink as he rolls his head from one side to the other for a moment, letting his hand drop back to his side once a bone pops.

“Look, _kids_ ,” Bucky says in the two men’s direction.

The older man stands a little taller, eyebrows pulling together in an affronted line and mouth pulling down. Bucky gives him a flat, unimpressed look and after a moment the man loses some of his muster. They all know who’s actually the _oldest_ in this room.

“I don’t know who you _think_ we are,” Bucky continues, squeezing Steve’s hand, “But we’re not ‘ _Captain America_ ’ or ‘ _Sergeant James Barnes of the Howling Commandos_ ’. That’s Steve,” he says, pointing at Steve with his right hand before pointing to himself, “And I’m Bucky. Got it? Good. Now leave us the fuck alone.” He lowers his voice, expression going blank and eyes going hard and frigid as he says next, “This is the only warning you get. The _entire government_.”

Steve tugs on his hand and Bucky lets him pull him out of the room, their Shadow darting ahead again once it catches sight of them and realizes they’re following.

They don’t deviate for the bodies lying in their way, just walk over corpses like they’ve done nearly their whole lives, hand in hand.

\--

“I really am sorry, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, later, breath hitching and fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders when Steve pushes up into him more roughly where he’s straddling Steve’s waist. And it’s _anger_ , but Steve leans up and presses a gentle kiss to the base of his neck in counterpoint and it’s _love_. His fingers grip Bucky’s hips, the tips of them digging in and it’s _worry_. Steve flips them on the bed and thrusts in harder, faster, and it’s _mine_ and _dear_ and _fear_.

Bucky pulls him in closer, leans up while he wraps his legs around Steve’s waist and grinds back down in tandem, pressing an equally gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. And Steve comes with a quiet gasp, arms shaking as he holds himself up until he finally lets himself collapse down on top of him, overheated and sweaty skin to overheated and sweaty skin.

Steve lays there for a moment, panting quietly against the side of Bucky’s neck before slowly pushing himself up on still slightly shaking arms, but his eyes are as steady as anything when they stare down at him.

Bucky stares back up, hair flared out around him like it’ll swallow them both whole and drag them under the surface. Steve reaches down between them after a moment, slowly strokes his fingers up Bucky’s still hard cock between their hot skin while leaning down with the same slow pace, pressing an equally gentle kiss to Bucky’s own forehead. Bucky comes with a pained groan that he lets past his teeth, fingers scrambling briefly along Steve’s back before digging in roughly and pulling him down and close, finding Steve’s mouth with his own and squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve forgives him where no one would, loves him like no one could, and stays with him somewhere between the dark and the light like no one else could stand, like no one else _should_. They’re both still monsters in a land of gods and men, but…

Bucky slowly slides his hands down from Steve’s back and down Steve’s arms and up, twining his fingers with Steve’s, opening his eyes as Steve does the same to stare up into bright blue and dark blue and everything in between, gold hair flared out around Steve’s head like a halo and sweat already nearly cooled on his skin.

Steve’s always been his angel.


End file.
